The Escape
by Taklimakan
Summary: The beginnings of a fic about the escape of some slaves from Nurn (y'know? in Mordor?). Original characters, my first fic, please be nice. Reviews greatly appreciated, too! :)
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note

I know that according to the Lord of the Rings the slaves in Mordor are a slave-race and not captured as individuals. And I know that an escape from Nurn would probably be impossible. I'm bending the rules for the sake of the story. However the story itself I think is good as it is, thank you for reading, enjoy.

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He was tired. Oh, so tired. Yet he was not compelled to sit down or stop working, because he knew that the drivers were watching. Indeed, at that moment the drivers were tormenting another pitiful creature at the end of the field. It looked like a man, and the drivers were having their fun by kicking at the grain basket he held, then making him pick up what had fallen out and doing it all over again. He pitied the man being tormented; soon the drivers would tire of this and kill him, only to go torment another slave. He knew this because, in the twenty-three years he had spent in Nurn, he had seen it done several times. How he wished he was somewhere else. He didn't know what the rest of the world looked like, but he was sure it had to be better than this. He turned his head and looked out over the wind-swept, lonely landscape of Nurn. The only things moving were other pitiful creatures like himself and the hated orcish slave-drivers. 

He averted his gaze and closed his light grey eyes as he heard the anguished cries of the slave and the harsh, delighted laughs of the drivers. He continued picking grain, because he knew through experience that the more grain you picked, the more the drivers got fed, and the more the drivers got fed, the less they tormented and made sport of you. There emanated a sad, coughing moan from the man. So as not to be punished for helping, he merely picked the grain, yet at the same time moved toward the creature. The creature was in a pitiful state; blood covered his stomach and from his mouth came another cough, accompanied by a drizzle of blood that spilled down the front of him and pooled in the grain basket by his side. The drivers had pulled off and gone to join their captain, Bor-Hec. Bor-Hec was the worst of the drivers; he let the others have their sport, his idea being that the slaves should always work harder and if they couldn't... just get more slaves.

  
  


The creature was not a man, but an elf. He hadn't known many elves, but he knew that for some reason they didn't seem to age. The elf turned his head toward him and said, in the common tongue, "Help me, please... help." The elf gurgled again and laid his head back. "What I can do I will," he answered. "But first I have to move you from here. The drivers will soon return, and when they find your body hasn't been removed, they'll kill you outright." He picked up the elf and started to carry him to the sleeping area. The sleeping area was not much more than a group of poorly made low-roofed huts that's only purpose was to shelter the slaves from the elements. The elf started to seize up, his skin turned clammy, and his eyes began to cloud over. It was apparent that the elf was dying, so he laid him down and tried to stop the bleeding by tearing his rags and putting pressure on the wound. 

  
  


An hour passed... then another. The day was ending when the elf finally regained consciousness. The wound on his stomach was starting to scab when the orc-captain and two others walked into the squalor of the hut. "You", Bor-Hec said pointing at the elf. "Stand up, now." The elf started to get up, but sat back down hard, holding his stomach. One of the drivers walked over, picked up the elf, and threw him into the wall. As the elf hit the floor, the driver unsheathed his scimitar and prepared to stab him. "No!" said Bor-Hec, reconsidering. The driver looked over at him quizzically, as though to ask why not,when Bor-Hec explained. "We need more slaves than we do corpses. Let him heal so he can work." With that the drivers left the hut, and all was silent.

  
  


Two days passed. The elf was still doing poorly, but he could walk again and even do some work, although he often just stayed in the hut. Bor-Hec had announced that any slave found resting in the fields or not working was to be killed. Although this had been an unspoken rule for sometime, it was now going to be more enforced than it had been before. The drivers were always watching, and when a slave would start to hang his head low from fatigue, the drivers would be upon him, stabbing and slashing him with their blades or shooting him with their arrows. 

  
  


As more and more slaves died or were seriously wounded the drivers had fewer to torment in their foul way. This, in turn, disgruntled the drivers who, in turn, took all their frustration and poured it into malicious torture and death among the slaves. On that first day when he met the elf, the elf had asked for his name. He had said he had no name, so the elf gave him one, Deynak. It was his name now and he was called Deynak by his elf-friend, Cuthalion. 

  
  


Dusk had settled over Nurn. What little sunlight got through the smokey haze of Mount Doom was fading, and the slaves were sent back to their huts with one loaf of bread for every hut. Deynak came bearing his loaf for himself and Cuthalion, the only people occupying their hut. "Well, Cuthalion,"said Deynak. "What do we talk about tonight?" For the past two days, Cuthalion had been telling him about the outside world, and Deynak was eager to learn. 

  
  


Cuthalion was a middle-elf of a thousand years. He was from a place called Rivendell, and he had been caught while out scouting; unaware of the orcs that captured him until the net was around him. 

"I intend to escape as soon as I can, and I'd like you to come with me," Cuthalion said.

"Escape!" Deynak said with surprise. "I tried escaping once when I was eight. I killed two orcs before another one grabbed me and hauled me back. That orc was Bor-Hec. I received twenty-five lashes for my attempt, though I doubt you could see them now. They're covered by all the others. Escape!" he repeated softly, a bit wonderingly. He had long since abandoned the idea as hopeless, and yet suddenly, he wasn't so sure. Cuthalion obviously believed it was possible - so naive, Deynak thought, rather bitterly. But still - we're going to die anyway. Why not, after all? He spoke up again. 

"Well, I suppose we could try. But we'll need weapons and armor. We won't be able to escape tonight, so it's going to have to be tomorrow - and when they least expect it. That would be dusk or shortly thereafter. We can split up, grabbing weapons as we go and killing any orcs that get in the way. Then we could meet back here and head out." 

"It won't be that easy,"said Cuthalion. "There are many guards and only the two of us." "Not so." said Deynak. "There are a few others who would share the risk, if they knew about it. I'll spread the word to those we can trust, and tell them when and where to meet us. As soon as we've agreed, we'll meet back here and head out."

  
  


The next day the word escape had been spread to thirteen others; three more elves, six dwarves, and four men. The men were: Sedlik, Gareth, Dacuntha, and Jehrong. The dwarves were: Ferdin, Daeron, Numli, Orenki, Thoreken, and Fatanui . The elves: Edrahil, Elemire, and Maedhros. Deynak trusted all of them and knew that if things went wrong, none of them would abandon their fellows. 

The day went fairly quickly, and when they were sent back to the sleeping area, the escapees simply followed Deynak. Cuthalion was waiting for them in the hut, and was about to introduce himself when two of the drivers, who were wondering why so many slaves were going to one hut, burst in. Ferdin, Edrahil, and Sedlik jumped the first one while Deynak, Gareth, and Numli jumped the second one. Both drivers died quickly, stripped to the skin and without anything of any use to the escapees still on them. Numli was armed with a short axe, while Ferdin took a dagger and Deynak grabbed a scimitar. The rest armed themselves with what they could, and they set out. 

  
  


It was dark now, with almost no light except for very faint torchlight a fair distance away. There were only two sentries around, and the only things they carried were a spear, a dagger, and a bow and quiver of arrows apiece. Both of them were dead before they could even reach for the alarm bell. Cuthalion and Elemire both carried bows now, and would take down drivers from afar, while the rest ran forward and stripped them of weapons and armor. Everyone in this strange-looking group was now heavily armed, and all of the dwarves were heavily armored as well. Most of the others simply took a helmet or maybe a breastplate, and the elves didn't wear any armor at all. The group could have walked out of Nurn, but they didn't, because they had a powerful vengeance to reap.

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A/N: So, did you like it? Please tell me!


	2. Realization

While the drivers outside the main barracks were being slaughtered, the drivers inside were blissfully unaware. Bor-Hec himself was asleep, counting on the night watch to sound the alarm if necessary. He was awakened by the sound of battle and a scream that pierced the night air. He stood up and grabbed the first thing that came to hand - a bullwhip. As he walked out the door, he looked down the passage and nearly became sick. In the hallway were thirty dead drivers, their body still twitching and blood still spurting out of armless shoulders and headless necks. Blood had made the floor slick, and as Bor-Hec tried to avoid pools of body fluids, he rammed quite unintentionally into Numli, who, upon finding himself face to face with the most hated and dangerous of all the drivers, roared a guttural cry and launched himself upon Bor-Hec. In retaliation, the orc- driver flailed his whip and caught Numli across the face. Blood gushed from the wound across Numli's face and the dwarf fell to the ground, roaring in pain and almost completely blind. Ferdin heard the cries of Numli and rushed to his defense. Bor-Hec was about to finish Numli off when he heard the pattering of feet and decided to run in the opposite direction of the footsteps. He soon realized what a mistake he had made when he rounded a corner and there Deynak was sitting, perfectly silent, sharpening his sword. He uttered but five words: "I've been waiting for you." As he spat out the words, he raised his sword high and brought it down. Bor-Hec died without a sound, cloven clean to the teeth, his face still a mask of shocked horror.  
  
As Deynak made his way back to the group, he saw that they were bandaging Numli. " What's wrong with him?" he asked Cuthalion. "Bor-Hec caught him with a whip across the face. It blinded him, but he'll be alright in a moment." "Very well, Sedlik, Gareth, Cuthalion, Ferdin! You four come with me, the rest of you stay here until Numli can see, and if your seen run." As the five of them moved off, the other eight took up defensive positions while Edrahil tended to Numli. "Why did you want us to come with you instead of staying?" asked Cuthalion.  
  
"Because, my naive young elf,"answered Deynak, "if we are attacked out here one of us can run back and tell the others, and if they're attacked, we too can be warned." Cuthalion blushed and looked down at the ground, silently wishing he hadn't been foolish enough to ask a question with such an obvious answer. "Don't worry,"said Deynak lifting Cuthalion's chin, "you'll soon learn. After all, escape was your idea, and that shows you have talent for planning. But once you learn a little more, you won't have to worry about things like that, because you'll already know them." Cuthalion looked at Deynak and saw in his eyes a love that he had never seen before. A love for him more powerful than he'd ever known, and he found that he, too, had a love for this man. ~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
A/N: Like it? I'll write more, if you do. ^_^ 


	3. An Untimely Death

A/N: To answer a question I received earlier: No, there will be no slash in this story, Deynak was simply bonding with Cuthalion. Deynak regards Cuthalion as his younger brother even though he's older than him. Well, anyway - don't want to keep you from reading the story. (Questions, Reviews, and Suggestions excepted as always ^_^)  
  
"Will you be able to see now?" Edrahil asked Numli. "Yes, I think so. In any case, I think we should probably leave now. We still have to get out of here, don't we?" Numli was about to comment further as they lifted him to his feet, when Maedhros said "Silence!" He then lifted his bow, notched an arrow, and went down a corridor. He hastened back to the group and shouted "Take cover!" As he cried out this warning, Maedhros fired an arrow only to have himself hit by one. It entered through his left eye and came out just behind his right ear. He was killed instantly, his body slipping to the floor and blood spurting from the wound. The other elves fired their own arrows before running to help Maedhros, but it was already too late. Having no chance of winning if they stayed, those who were left ran back to the group, leaving the corpse of Maedhros behind them.  
  
That group was itself under attack, and running as fast as possible. As they charged through one gully and surged up a hillock, it finally caught Deynak's attention that the farther they ran, the more the landscape changed. He found that he could breathe more easily and run faster, and he also saw that there was much less smoke here. He turned his to his right and asked breathlessly, " Where the hell are... damn!" this last word he thundered as his unprotected foot rammed straight into a rock he hadn't seen before. "Ithilien!" shouted Cuthalion as he finally recognized the familiar terrain. "We've made it, we're free!" As the enormity of it all reached Deynak, he began to run faster, passing the dark haired young elf and shouting, "What of the others though?" In response, he received an answer from Ferdin, "Don't worry. They'll make it, I'm sure."  
  
The elves in the aforementioned group felt they simply couldn't carry on. Maedhros's untimely death had hurt them more than anyone else. It both enraged and saddened them. As they came close to where the other group had passed only a quarter of an hour ago, they felt like giving up. Edrahil notched an arrow, turned, and fired into the swelling mass of orcs pursuing them, yet he never stopped running. "Elbereth!" he shouted as he fell into a low ditch he hadn't seen. He cried for help, but didn't hear a response to his calls. He wondered if his time, like Maedhros's, was up.  
  
To be continued.  
  
(So what do you guys think? Let me know.) 


	4. Interlude

A/N: I'm so sorry about chapter three. It's so short! So to make it up to you, I'm writing this. (All Reviews accepted. ^_^)

Deynak woke up suddenly. /_What the hell! Why in the name of all good things were the crew and I asleep!/ _Then he remembered that he had called a halt the night before so that the crew would be able to venture farther away from the choking dust pit that was Mordor. He woke up the rest of the crew and briefed them on his current plan of action. They would run westward in the hopes that they would be able to avoid orc patrols near the mountains. After that they would journey over the mountains in as little time as possible and from there… no one knew. Seeing as they had no provisions they went without food that morning, they really didn't notice it however seeing as how when they had been given food it hadn't been much. As they progressed forward they came to realize that if they were to run as fast as they could not worrying about being seen they would cover much more ground than before. So, to keep spirits up, they began races to see how much ground they could cover in a short period of time. Deynak almost always emerged as the winner and Ferdin almost always last. It was ten o' clock before anyone saw them and even then they had covered almost fifteen miles. It was a small orc patrol of nine that spotted them first giving up a howl to the wind before attacking their targets. Ferdin was the first to spot them calling to his friends before readying his axe. Gareth and Sedlik drew their swords and stood beside Ferdin as Cuthalion and Deynak readied their bows. As two more orc patrols of about equal size came over the hill the first patrol had already hit the small crew. 

Deynak and Cuthalion loosed their arrows taking down two, Ferdin disembowled a third while Sedlik stabbed another through the knee and Gareth decapitated a fifth. The crew began to run with Deynak and Cuthalion in the rear, firing off shafts in to the oncoming horde of orcs. 

At the first chance they'd had in four hours the crew stopped and rested. As they sat opening a half empty flask of water Deynak began planning again. "Well now that we know the approximate layout of their troop positions we can make an educated guess as to what our best chance of escape will be. I think if we go to our right we'll probably be able to at least get to the mountains before nightfall. However if there are no more incidents along the way we could probably reach the summit be about noon tomorrow." "And if there are 'incidents' along the way how long then?" asked Ferdin. It was a valid question and Deynak could only stab at the answer. " I'd say around midnight tomorrow is when we could reach it. Then we could probably make it to the other side and into the forest two to three days from now." As they drank and ate the one loaf of bread that they had brought they were unaware of what might be happening to the other group.

Said group had actually set out earlier than Deynak's. Leaving before the sun came up they had covered twice the ground that the others had. Now they were being chased by a large group of orc patrols. Having more people than the other group had, they had initially repulsed the attacks of the orcs, but the orcs having reinforcements, had been able to drive the escapees back and finally forced them to run. As the crew did run they fired arrows into the lead runners of the patrol, taking stands on top of hillocks and in the valleys behind the hillocks. The patrols were losing orcs and now they were beyond hope of reinforcements. As the orcs charged up a hill helter-skelter the crew loosed more shafts into them. Edrahil, who was in command of the crew took a body count on the patrols. Twenty in all, scratch that twelve. Edrahil decided he could take the risk of standing and fighting, which the dwarves in his group had been begging to do all this time. Drawing his scimitar and beckoning the others to do likewise Edrahil charged down the slope slashing and stabbing at the orcs, taking down one by ripping into its lungs; in the great woosh of air that escaped the orc's lungs, it toppled backwards hitting the ground with a thud. Edrahil was soon accompanied by Orenki and Numli as well as Jehrong and Elemire the rest fired a volley of arrows into the remaining orcs scattering them and taking down four. The rest tried running only to be shot from close range. 

Numli had been hurt when an unarmed orc tried to claw his eyes out. The orc had been disembowled but not before gashing his left eye. They had time on their side for the moment so they tried to help him as well as they could before being forced to press on.

(This is where Chapter 3 picks up which is why I'm ending this interlude here. However in Chapter 4 I'll go into more detail about the crossing of the mountains.) ^_^


End file.
